


Menage

by justalittlegreen



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Threesome, margie is one of the best nurses ever, piercintyre - Freeform, supply shed, trapper and hawkeye are using this as an excuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-04-05 02:15:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19039117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justalittlegreen/pseuds/justalittlegreen
Summary: "How many you got for me, honey?" he asks. "Two?" She nods, starting to pant as the tension ramps up. "Three? Think we can wring that much out of you?"





	Menage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [docmccoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/docmccoy/gifts), [onekisstotakewithme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/onekisstotakewithme/gifts).



> I've been writing a good bit of smut lately. There's nothing so precious as readers who enjoy the unspooling of a dirty mind. I'll take requests in the comments, if you've got any.

At some point, Margie Cutler sits back against the wall and watches Trapper take Hawkeye into his mouth, just as she had been minutes earlier. The scene is captivating; she's practically dripping as she watches them, Hawkeye's hand rougher in Trapper's hair than he'd been with her, the stifled moans.

Margie adds a few of her own to the mix, to throw off any eavesdroppers, but crawls up next to Hawkeye and whispers in his ear, "You don't even need me, do you."

"Don't worry," Hawkeye reassures her, panting, "he's a twelve-year scotch. You're a '47 Bordeaux. I can't live without either of you."

"Good," Margie says. She reaches down and nudges Trapper's head. "My turn," she announces. Trap obediently backs off so she can climb on top.

"Hang on," Hawkeye mutters, grabbing a rubber. "Gotta wrap it up."

"I got it," Margie says quickly, plucking it from his fingers. She eases it over him expertly, tossing the wrapper aside. "There," she says, maneuvering herself over his hips. "Now come on, Johnny, no one's leaving you out. Get over here so I can watch him put that mouth to better use."

Hawkeye loves being pinned down at both ends, John over his head and Margie at his hips. He welcomes Trapper's cock as eagerly as Margie welcomes his, moaning and humming in ways he knows bring John to the brink in an instant.

He's not disappointed. Trapper John, famously stoic and reticent Swamp rat, has a hair trigger when it comes to Hawkeye's tongue. Hawk would grin smugly if he weren't so busy trying to keep up swallowing. Margie leans forward to kiss Trapper's shoulder before he - for lack of a better word - dismounts Hawkeye's face.

Hawkeye grins up at her, licking his lips and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Kiss me, you dirty girl."

She knows how much Trapper loves watching it, how seeing them do something he's never had the stomach for gets him going like a teenager. Hawkeye gingerly sits up so she doesn't get to move too much, and then he's got his hands in her hair, turning the kiss into a performance. She can feel him twitching inside her. He likes it, too.

Off to the side, Trap groans softly. "You two're gonna kill me."

Margie turns to him with a pout. "Come back and play, Johnny." She gestures, shows him what she wants him to do. A slow grin spreads across his face as he scrambles between Hawk's spread knees, coming up behind her, one hand reaching around her chest, the other further down.

"How many you got for me, honey?" he asks as he stars stroking her in time with Hawkeye's thrusts. "Two?" She nods, starting to pant as the tension ramps up. "Three?" He nips at her neck, a rough thumb across her nipple. "Think we can wring that much out of you?"

The idea of it alone sends her over the edge. She doesn't even see Hawkeye digging his fingernails into his own thigh in an effort to hold off.

John holds her tight as she comes apart, his arm tense and muscled against her chest. Hawkeye moans and closes his eyes, stills his hips as she thrashes - she can't stay contained when her very nerves are on fire, when John's hand doesn't stop, and he's muttering into her ear, "That's a girl," and it feels like she's out in the ocean, catching wave after wave.

It slows for a minute, though she can still hear her pulse in her ears. Hawkeye's smirking, but kindly, with admiration and affection. "That was a hell of a ride," he says. "I almost fell off."

"You'd better hang on tighter, pardner," Trapper says over her shoulder, and his hand is starting up again, "the ride's not over, is it, honey?"

Margie opens her mouth, panting, the sounds coming deeper, hoarser, more needy. John lifts his hand, forearm still against her chest, and shoves two fingers in her mouth to keep her quiet. "That's it, sweetheart," he croons as she squeals around his fingers. "Can't have you waking the whole camp with the news of how good we are, can we."

She reaches down to adjust John's hand slightly and lifts her hips to his fingers. "Do it," he whispers. "Again. Again, sweet girl, let me feel it."

Hawkeye claps a hand over his mouth as he feels her gripping him again, and tighter. This time, he can't hold on.

Hawkeye flops back into the pile of blankets, boneless and sated, arms open. "C'mere," he says to Margie. She half-crawls, half falls off him, still in the aftershocks. She curls up next to him and rides them out. He kisses her head tells her she's incredible.

John tucks up behind her, all tenderness and small gestures -tucking her hair behind her ear, covering her with the cleanest blanket. She likes this part as much as she likes the rest of it, when she's between them. She wishes they could go somewhere together, somewhere she could wake up like this, even with their smells and their snoring.

John's hand is stroking up and down her side, petting her softly. She hears them kissing above her head, and the sound warms her, makes her realize she's not completely finished. She slips her hand over John's, weaving their fingers together so she can drag his hand where she needs it.

"Oh?" His voice is surprised, delighted, mischievous. "Hawk, I don't believe our girl here is completely satisfied."

She's so wet and swollen between his fingers, plump and slick and perfect, and the way she squirms and whimpers between them (even as she's trying to move her leg to give him better access) would have them both hard again, if such things were possible. Instead, Hawkeye props himself up on one elbow and kisses her neck, her jaw, her ear - anything his lips can reach.

"So you did have three in you after all," he purrs.

"Uh-huh," she replies, burying her face in the soft of his chest. "Oh Johnny, don't stop, don't stop there, please don't - "

"Easy, honey," Trapper says. "I got you. I'm gonna take care of you. Hawk, a hand?"

They ease her on to her back - she loves that they're so long when they're sprawled out, that Hawkeye can keep an arm under her neck while his other hand - oh. Two, no, three, long clever fingers curling inside her, thrumming and moving and oh she's so close. So close. Hawkeye's upper hand closes over her mouth. "Go ahead. Scream as loud as you want," he mutters.

"Yeah, let it all out, sweetheart," John says and she's amazed at how steady his hands still are - must be that surgeon training - and suddenly, the wave slams into her and she's jerking, shuddering, screaming into Hawkeye's hand with all the breath she has left.

John stands watch as Hawkeye gathers Margie up in a pile of blankets and carries her to the VIP tent, which is thankfully empty this weekend. She mewls and whimpers as he sets her down, tucking in the blankets and kissing her forehead.

"G'night, Margie-pie," he says softly, making to leave as quietly as he can.

"Hey."

He turns around. She's still curled up on her side away from him, talking halfway through sleep. "Tell Johnny I said goodnight."

"I will," he promises.

"And Hawkeye?"

"Yes?"

"You want me to come get you out of supply before reveille?"

"You probably should."

"There's only so many times I can keep Houlihan out of there before you lazy slugs decide to get out of bed."

He chuckles softly. "Well, you wore us out tonight."

"Speak for yourself. I'm not the one who only came once and gave up."

That gets a real laugh. "Margie Cutler, no man will ever match your greatness."

"That's more like it, sugar. Sleep well."


End file.
